


Déjà vu, déjà connu

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Combeferre is a supportive friend/boyfriend, Courfeyrac is wonderful, Dreams, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Eponine is sarcastic but still a great friend, Grantaire is sad but then he's happy, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What is it, Eponine?” he asked, trying for casual and ending up with miserable exhaustion.</p><p>His best friend sauntered through his door and sat on his bed. “You were screaming in your sleep,” she stated plainly, looking him in the eyes.</p><p>Grantaire looked at her for a moment. “What?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Déjà vu, déjà connu

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful amazing beta/editor kyaticlikestea! Check her out, she's an amazing writer!

“Grantaire?” Eponine said, knocking on the door frame of her best friend’s room.

Grantaire’s eyes flew open. For a moment, all he could see was darkness, and panic climbed into his throat before dissipating when he saw the familiar glow of his alarm clock. 2:37 AM. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, about to return to his fitful sleep when he saw the shadow of a figure in his doorway. “What is it, Eponine?” he asked, trying for casual and ending up with miserable exhaustion.

His best friend sauntered through his door and sat on his bed. “You were screaming in your sleep,” she stated plainly, looking him in the eyes.

Grantaire looked at her for a moment. “What?”

Eponine nodded. “You were yelling about Apollo?” she said, questioning. “And someone called Enjo-something?”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire supplied without thinking.

“Yeah,” Eponine said slowly. “Them. Whoever they may be.” She looked away for a second. “Who are they?”

“I don’t -” Grantaire’s voice came out hoarse, and he stopped, cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t know.”

Eponine’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not some fuckbuddy I’m not supposed to know about, right?”  
she said. “Because we both know what happened last time, and honestly, I wish I could have that memory surgically removed from my skull.”

Grantaire sighed, but some of his usual good humor returned to his eyes. No matter how pushy Eponine was, he had to admit that it was good to have her around. Even after a nightmare that set his thoughts on fire, she always managed to make him smile, no matter how much he felt like screaming.“God, Ep, no. That was one time. No more fuckbuddies. Honestly, I have no idea who he is.”

“So it is a he, then,” Eponine said, amused. “And you must know him from somewhere. No-one could just remember that name, it sounds like a fucking sneeze.”

Grantaire shrugged helplessly.

Eponine sighed. “Well, maybe you do know him, you just don’t know where from. Describe him to me.”

He looked at her, and he looked so melancholy that she knew they had to figure this out soon.

“He was beautiful, Ep. He looked like a fucking god.” Hence Apollo. Eponine thought, but let him continue. “He was blonde,” Grantaire added. “With blue eyes.”

Eponine rolled her eyes. “R, there are at least 15,000 students on campus, how many do you think look like that?” she asked. “A lot.”

“‘Ponine, listen to me,” Grantaire pleaded. “He was - I don’t know, he was just different. His hair was long, and it was tied back in a red ribbon.” His eyes glazed over a bit, and his head tilted back, as if he were reminiscing about something from long ago instead of a dream he had just woken up from. He smiled. “His jacket was red too. I think it was his favorite color.”

“Was?” Eponine asked.

Grantaire seemed to suddenly be pulled from his daze. “He died in my dream.”

Eponine blanched. “Oh.”

Grantaire paused for a moment. “Actually, you did too.”

“I was in your dream?”

Grantaire nodded. “You, Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Bossuet, Joly, Bahorel, Jehan, and Feuilly, but I don’t know who they are or why I remember their names so well.”

Eponine seemed to have stopped paying attention. “Courfeyrac,” she murmured. “I’ve heard that name before. I forgot where, though. Give me a minute.” She paused for a few moments, then her face lit up with realisation. “I know that name, I definitely know that name! Courfeyrac is Marius’ roommate!” Then she looked confused. “But you’ve never met him before, right?”

Grantaire shook his head.

“Describe what he looked like in your dream.”

Grantaire looked thoughtful for a second. “Uh, he had curly hair. It was black. And, er, blue eyes. I think.”

Eponine looked at him wide eyed. That was an exact description of Marius’ cocky roommate. “Was he cocky?” she asked.

Grantaire smirked. “Exceedingly so.”

“Christ, R,” she said. “That’s pretty much an exact description of Courfeyrac. You’re sure you’ve never met him?”

“Never even seen a picture.”

“Christ,” Eponine repeated. “Alright, well, can we figure this out in the morning? It is way too goddamn early for this shit.”

Grantaire snorted. “Read my mind, Ep.”

 

\---------

 

Enjolras jolted bolt upright in bed. He turned and looked at his alarm clock. 3:14 stared back at him and he groaned. He had midterms tomorrow, damn it! He lay back down and was pulling up the covers when he spotted Courfeyrac in the doorway. “What do you want, Courf?” he asked wearily.

“Just wondering why you were yelling in your sleep,” Courfeyrac said casually.

“Was I? Didn’t even realize,” Enjolras replied, feigning nonchalance.

“Yep,” Courfeyrac said. “Vive la Revolution, That’s not really surprising, though, knowing you.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Who’s Grantaire?”

“I-” Enjolras stopped. “Who?”

“I don’t know, you were the one yelling his name.” A smile slowly spread itself across Courfeyrac’s lips. Enjolras didn’t like it. “Were you having a wet dream?”

Enjolras’ face contorted into a grimace of indignance, although there was a slight flush to his ears. “No!” he cried. “Of course not,” he added, slightly calmer.

“Well then, what was the dream about?” Courfeyrac asked.

Enjolras peered at him, confused. “What are you even doing here?”

Courfeyrac looked exasperated. “I’m fucking your best friend, what do you think I’m doing here?” He then looked slightly amused. “Kept quiet so we wouldn’t wake you, and you still woke up.” Then his face became more serious again. “Stop changing the subject - what was the dream about?”

“A revolution,” Enjolras stated simply.

Courfeyrac sighed in a long-suffering sort of way. “I got that from ‘Vive la Revolution’. I need details!”

“Um,” Enjolras started. It was too early for this kind of thing. “I can give you the exact date, isn’t that strange? It was June 6th, 1832. I don’t know how I know that; no one said it in the dream, I just do.”

“That’s...” Courfeyrac paused. “That’s really weird.”

But Enjolras wasn’t done yet. “It was a revolution. Well,” he said, “a failed attempt at one, but the point still stands. Anyway, all the Les Amis were there. They all... well, they all died. I died too, but there was someone else. They died next to me, hand in hand.” He looked down at his own hands thoughtfully.

Courfeyrac scoffed. “Bet it was Combeferre. That seems like something he would do.”

Enjolras shook his head. “No. I think - I think it was Grantaire.”

“Grantaire?” Courfeyrac frowned. “Who is he? What did he look like?”

“He was one of Les Amis. But something tells me he wasn’t there because he believed in the cause.” Enjolras paused. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “He had dark hair, blue eyes. They were wonderful. I wonder if he knew that. He was an alcoholic, I think.” Enjolras smiled slightly. “He asked me if I permitted him dying next to me. There was no way out, he never cared about my opinion on anything, and he still asked my permission to die with me.” His smile turned into a small frown. “I don’t think he thought he was worth anything. I think it was my fault.”

Courfeyrac looked at him, unblinking. “How do you even know or remember all of that?”

Enjolras looked at him and then back down at his hands. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Courfeyrac shook his head slightly and yawned. Enjolras suddenly remembered how early it was. “Go back to sleep, Courfeyrac. I want to get ‘Ferre’s opinion on this in the morning before class.”

Courfeyrac nodded minutely. “Yeah, all right. I’ll never understand why you took all those morning classes. ‘Night,” he said, stumbling sleepily out the door. Minutes later, Enjolras heard the bed in the next room creak and some unintelligible words mumbled before all went silent. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, rubbed his eyes, and flopped back down onto the bad in an ungraceful manner. Tomorrow, he thought. I’ll think about it tomorrow.

-

“So!” Combeferre said in a way that was entirely too cheerful considering how early it was. “What was your dream about?” he asked, pouring Enjolras’ coffee. “I heard you yelling in your sleep. Are you alright?” He handed the coffee to Enjolras, who accepted it gratefully.

Enjolras nodded in thanks and then looked at Courfeyrac in a way that clearly said You explain, I’m too tired.

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and sighed, but proceeded to tell Combeferre the gist of the dream, and of Grantaire.

When he was done, Combeferre looked thoughtful. “You said the date was June 6, 1832?” he asked. Enjolras nodded, and Combeferre pursed his lips. “Perhaps a trip to the library is in order? We’ll meet for lunch and head there afterwards?”

Enjolras nodded again his assent. Courfeyrac grinned. “Yep, that sounds good! But now I have to get back to my place before I have to worry about Marius attacking me with a baseball bat. He does get so funny about me staying over.” He pecked Combeferre on the cheek and ran out the door shouting, “Love you!”

Combeferre sighed good-naturedly and gazed after him. Enjolras rolled his eyes at this. “I’ve got midterms today. I’ll see you later.”

“All right,” Combeferre said. “See you.”

\--------

“What kind of a name is Enjolras anyway?” Grantaire wondered aloud. “Not that it doesn’t fit him, but - ” Eponine’s groan interrupted his musings.

“So that wasn’t just some fucked up dream then?” she asked. And then she sighed. “Ask me after I’ve had a cup of coffee or something would you? Christ.”

Grantaire came out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee in hand. “Do you accept Grantaire as your lord and savior?” he asked teasingly.

“Fuck off, R, but give me that coffee first or I’ll hide all your art supplies for a week. A month, even.”

Grantaire put a hand to his chest dramatically. “You wound me!” he said, but handed her the coffee before disappearing back into the kitchen, returning with a bowl of cereal a moment later. He flopped ungracefully down onto the nearest armchair and somehow managed not to spill any milk on himself.

“So,” Eponine said. “You wanna break into Marius’ apartment, see if Courfeyrac and Wonder Boy are there?”

Grantaire seemed to consider this for a moment. “Maybe,” he said. “Although maybe not because I have a meeting with a commissioner today.”

Eponine groaned. “What time is the meeting?” It was less of a question and more of a demand.

“11:30.”

“How long do you think it’ll run?”

“Eh,” Grantaire said. “45 minutes at the most.”

“You wanna go at like 1:30 so we can have lunch or something first?” Eponine asked, taking a sip of her coffee and cringing at its temperature.

“Yeah, all right,” Grantaire agreed.

“Okay.”

\---------

They went to the Musain. Courfeyrac made a fool of himself in an attempt to entertain his boyfriend, Combeferre laughed at him and thought he was being discreet while he held his hand under the table. Enjolras had three cups of coffee and a bowl of rice after Combeferre practically begged him to eat something.

“Right, okay,” Combeferre said. “June 6th, you said?” Enjolras just nodded. “Okay.”

He flipped through the book he had picked up. The cover said something about French History.

Combeferre’s eyes widened in an almost comical way. “Um,” he said. “You might want to look at this.”

Both Enjolras and Courfeyrac leaned over Combeferre’s shoulders. Enjolras’ eyes widened. Courfeyrac gasped. Staring back up at them from the page - was their own names. It was a list of the deceased members of the revolution who had died that day on the barricade.

“What. the. fuck,” said Courfeyrac.

“I don’t know,” said Combeferre.

“No really, what the fuck.”

“I said I don’t know!” Combeferre snapped. “Sorry. Just...”

“Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Jehan, Eponine, Bahorel, Feuilly, Bossuet, Joly and - ” He gasped quietly. “Grantaire.”

“They were - ” Combeferre started. “They were called ‘Les Amis’.”

“Just like us,” Courfeyrac added. He gasped. “Look at this!” he said, pointing to a small picture in the bottom corner of the page. “Oh my god, Enjolras, its you.”

“Oh, don’t be - ” He looked closer. It was him, it looked exactly like him. “What the fuck?”

Courfeyrac nudged him. “Hey, that’s my line,” he said, but his voice was less cocksure than usual.

“There’s an early 19th century painting of a man who looked exactly like you and had your name,” Combeferre said. “How - ”

“Reincarnation?” Courfeyrac suggested. “Is there really any other way to explain this? I mean, the dream, or dreams. Have you had that dream before?” He didn’t wait for him to answer. “Actually, it doesn’t matter, does it? Dreams, whole fucking chapters of history books dedicated to an organization that had the same name and the same members as our own protest group, a portrait of a guy who looks exactly like Enjolras, and has the same name, yet he lived hundreds of years before us.” He stopped to take a breath. “Really, reincarnation is the only thing it could be.”

“I cannot believe this,” Combeferre said. “This is insane.”

“I know,” Enjolras agreed quietly  
\---------

“Marius!” Eponine called into the apartment, “Marius, you home?”

“In here!” he called back from the kitchen.

“Hey, Marius,” Grantaire said, joining them.

“Grantaire!” Marius said in surprise. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

Grantaire shrugged and looked at Eponine, who sighed in exasperation but began to explain to Marius what had happened as he rummaged through his fridge. There were some beer bottles near the back, which he considered for a moment, but he had been doing well lately so he dismissed the idea and grabbed an apple instead. When he stood back up, Marius was staring at him with wide eyes.  
“You’ve never met my roommate, or his boyfriend-”

“Boyfriend?!” Eponine interrupted.

Marius nodded slowly. “Yeah, Combeferre is Courf’s boyfriend. Why?”

Grantaire sighed in relief. “She thought you meant Enjolras was Courfeyrac’s boyfriend.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Eponine said. “Continue.”

“You dreamed about Enjolras and his whole social justice group, but they were in the 19th century?”

Grantaire nodded.

“That’s - ” He was cut off by the door to the apartment opening and closing.

“Marius, I’m back! You’re not gonna believe this, the strangest thi - ” Courfeyrac shouted. He walked into the kitchen. “Hello Eponine,” he greeted. He then turned to Grantaire.

“Hello Courfeyrac,” the stranger said.

“Have we met?” Courfeyrac asked. “You seem kind of familiar.”

The stranger laughed quietly, although Courfeyrac was sure he hadn’t said anything funny. “Yeah, uh, I think we have, kind of. My name’s Grantaire.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes widened and he stumbled back in shock. “Grantaire?” he asked quietly, almost a whisper. A thousand images bombarded him all in the span of a few seconds. Images of a barricade, of a Musain, the same as the one they always visited but different. He saw his friends, bloodied and terrified. It was unnerving and he felt his breath start to come in short gasps.

“Courfeyrac, are you okay?” Marius was on him in seconds, hands flitting over him nervously. “Should I call Joly?”

Courfeyrac shook his head, calming down quickly. “No, don’t call Joly, I’m fine. But I think I’d better call Ferre.”

Marius nodded, though he still looked nervous. Courfeyrac smiled lightly. “It’s good to see you, Grantaire,” he said.

“You too,” Grantaire smiled back.

Courfeyrac nodded to Eponine and then walked out of the room, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went. He tapped Ferre’s name and waited for him to pick up.

“Hello?” Combeferre’s voice filtered through the phone. “Courfeyrac? What’s wrong?”

“You have to get over here now,” Courfeyrac said. “Ferre, you have to come now. Grantaire is here.”

He heard Combeferre gasp. “Grantaire is at your apartment right now?”

Courfeyrac was about to reply when he heard Enjolras shout. “Grantaire?” he said, his tone almost panicked. “Grantaire is at his apartment?” Courfeyrac heard the rustle of Combeferre nodding against the phone. “We have to go now,” Enjolras demanded.

“Right,” Combeferre said. “Right, okay. We’re leaving right now. We’ll see you in five minutes.”

“Okay,” Courfeyrac said, feeling calmer again. “See you then, I love you.”

“Love you too,” Combeferre replied, and hung up.

Courfeyrac put the phone back into his pocket and walked back into the kitchen. “Hey, why don’t you guys stay here? Ferre and Enjolras are gonna be over in like five minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Grantaire said, sounding calmer than he looked. “Okay.”

\---------

Enjolras was freaking out. Grantaire was at Courfeyrac’s apartment. Grantaire, he was going to see Grantaire.

“Calm down, Enjolras, you look like you’re going to have a heart attack,” Combeferre said. Easy for him to say, Enjolras thought. “We’re going to be there in two minutes, please try not to have a panic attack.”

“Sorry,” Enjolras muttered. “Just overwhelming, you know?”

“Yeah,” Combeferre said quietly. “I know.” He looked thoughtful for a second. “You know, maybe this is why me and Courf are so easy together, because we knew each other before.”

Enjolras considered that. He wondered if it would be the same with Grantaire, and tried not to think about it. “Maybe.”

Combeferre pulled the car into a parking space and put it in park. “Alright,” he said. “Ready?”

“Probably not,” Enjolras said faintly.

Combeferre smiled lightly. “It’ll be okay,” he said.

“I know,” Enjolras replied. He opened his door and got out.

The trek up the stairs to Courfeyrac and Marius’ apartment seemed like an eternity, but at long last, they reached the door.

Enjolras and Combeferre exchanged a look, and pulled open the door.

In the sitting room, Marius sat on the couch, Courfeyrac on the floor, a woman with dark hair had draped herself lazily over the armchair, and pacing the room was Grantaire.

Combeferre cleared his throat, and Grantaire looked up; first at the source of the noise, Combeferre, and then at Enjolras.

Enjolras felt tears welling up, and tried to blink them back. “Grantaire,” he gasped.

Grantaire’s eyes softened. “Enjolras.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras repeated taking a step forward. “Grantaire, Grantaire, Grantaire.” He kept saying it; he sounded hysterical and probably looked it too, but he didn’t care because he was here, Grantaire was here. Had it really only been one day since Enjolras had remembered him? It felt much longer. “You’re here.”

Grantaire smiled and with a gasping sort of laugh said, “I am. So are you.” He laughed freely now. “God, Enjolras, you’re here.”

And that was when Enjolras started to cry. Grantaire was on him within seconds, wiping the tears from his cheeks and whispering, “No, no, don’t cry. It’s okay, don’t cry,” before wrapping him up in his arms and crying himself.

They pulled away and looked at the other inhabitants of the room, coughing awkwardly, sniffling and wiping away stray tears.

“Oh my god,” Combeferre whispered. He took a deep breath. “I remember.”

Courfeyrac had scrambled over to him so quickly that no one had even seen him move. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped him up in a hug.

“So,” Enjolras started cautiously “You’ve met all my friends before, obviously, but how would you like to meet up with us all on Friday?” He fiddled with the hem of Grantaire’s shirt. “Unless you’re busy, or you just don’t want to, which is fine - ”

Grantaire cut him off with a peck on the cheek. “Yeah that’d be great,” he said quietly. “That would be amazing.”

Enjolras smiled at Grantaire, who smiled back. Yeah. Enjolras thought fondly, This’ll be great.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr! My url is pacifistredheads. This is my first writing piece for the Les Miserables fandom. Kudos and comments are both welcomed and encouraged.


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